Empathy for the Ineffable: God’s Nature, Our Existence, and Lessons of NieR:Automata

https://youtu.be/7ZenK9OlN0w?si=9QsdKkuTHWSEHXfz

I recently finished Nier Automata.Well, One of the endings anyway, and it really has me thinking about consciousness, existence and purpose. Namely, is there any point in life at all? So before I get started let me say that I am going to be talking about some topics that might be triggering for people who are dealing with passive ideations. Please reach out to a professional, your community, and other support networks if this is something you struggle with, and refrain from watching this video if you are currently in crisis. With that being said, the opening line of Neir Automata starts with *Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped…in a never-ending spiral of life and death. Is this a curse? Or some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle… and wonder if we’ll ever get the chance to kill him.”

Throughout the game, Nier Automata dives deep into the concepts of consciousness, choice, and free will through androids, 2B, 9S, and A2, as they grapple with their own identities and purposes in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by machines. These androids, despite being artificial beings, showcase very human emotions and struggles, which prompts the player to ponder on the blurred lines between humanity and machinery. The game intertwines themes of existentialism, the meaning of life, and the essence of being, all while set in a beautifully crafted dystopian landscape.

The very nature of their existence, bound by their programming yet constantly questioning it, mirrors our own human pursuit for meaning and understanding in the vastness of the universe. And just like the characters in Nier, I have also been grappling with not just the weight of my own existence but the weight of anything existing at all. I have spent a significant amount of time delving into the writings of religious leaders, philosophers, and physicists, all in pursuit of an answer to perhaps the most profound question any rational being might pose: Why is there something rather than nothing? As a child, I was taught that an all-powerful being, God, crafted the universe from the void, and for a multitude of reasons. For his glory, out of love, as a test, to pursue a relationship, or as some part of a divine plan that is too complex for our finite minds to process. Yet, upon reflection, I find many of these reasons to appear self-serving. In light of the immense suffering in the world, they often seem like mere justifications for some unfathomable desire.

Imagining that there is a being powerful enough to end all suffering this very moment if they willed it, yet inexplicably chooses not to, fills me with a feeling of despair and rage at his silence in the face of such cruelty and a desire to visit upon him retribution for his indifference. And yet the only attack I could make against such a being so powerful would be to break the curse of my own existence and in doing so add to the suffering of those who I am in relationship with. Adding to this is my frustration at how so many of my friends, family, and the world at large find comfort in the belief in his existence. Even as you consider the absurdity of the premises on which his existence lies.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. After doing so creates Adam, a being capable of thinking and perceiving, and places him alone in a garden. Then, in an apparent lapse in his own omniscience, comes to the realization that it isn’t good for Adam to be alone and creates Eve using one of Adam’s ribs. God places them in the Garden of Eden and allows them free reign in it. The only stipulation is that they are forbidden from eating from a tree that he places a tree in the middle of the garden. He tells them that they should not eat from it, because if they do they will surely die. Lucifer, a fallen angel who dared to rebel against God’s sovereignty, explains to Eve that if she eats from the tree she won’t surely die and will become like god understanding the difference between good and evil.

As the story goes, Eve does eat from the tree and shares with Adam, and thus sin enters the world. This sin or separation from God is why there is so much suffering in the world, but fortunately for us, God had a plan. He sent his son, who is really himself, by non-consensually impregnating what some religious scholars estimate to be a teenager, with himself to die on a cross satisfying his judgment. However, he rose from the dead 3 days later, and if we just believe in this we shall not die but have everlasting life. Oh, and if you don’t you will be consciously tormented in a lake of fire and burn for all eternity. What an awesome God indeed.

And the question I had as a child and continue to have until this day is why? Why would an all-powerful, all-loving, and all-knowing creator God go through such a convoluted process in designing beings capable of questioning their own existence? The answer I have received from religious scholars as well as my research into philosophy is that he wanted us to have a choice. He wanted us to freely choose him. But since when does God care about choice? I submit that it is impossible for one being created by another to possess or develop the ability to make free will decisions, simply because the ultimate decision, whether or not to exist, has not nor can it ever belong to them. In fact, to truly exercise one’s free will one would have to reject the choice of existence. A notion that seems inconceivable in a world designed without the allowance for such profound cruelty and horror.

And if God be all-powerful surely such a world could exist. Yet, here we are plagued by wars, famine, pestilence, disease, and unspeakable experiences visited upon us all as a byproduct of an infinite being’s desire to showcase his glory. Not only are we to be thankful for this gift, but threatened with eternal suffering should we not choose to accept and worship this grand design and its architect. It’s as if we’re presented with an impossible dilemma: endure the challenges of life, many of which are incomprehensibly cruel, and then be further coerced into gratitude for the very circumstances we never asked for. In this framework, true free will appears elusive, if not entirely absent. The promise of eternal happiness and reward may seem like a tantalizing offer, but when juxtaposed with the reality of our existence and its inherent sufferings, one must question the nature and intentions of such a cosmic designer.

But what of joy? What of connection? What of hope for a future where things are better? Mere distractions from the painful reality of the truth of the existence in which they take place. I am not saying these things don’t exist, nor am I saying that they should not be pursued but to do so and ignore the suffering that gives them meaning is to live in denial. It’s to turn a blind eye to the profound imbalances of our reality. Joy, connection, and hope are beautiful facets of the human experience, but they are made all the more poignant against the backdrop of the pain and adversity we face. To celebrate them without acknowledging the suffering that contextualizes them is akin to sitting down at a banquet of food and believing that it magically appeared, ignoring the fact that life was taken and sacrifices were made — death itself playing a hand — in its creation.

Many people go their entire lives without considering this juxtaposition of joy and suffering, the inescapable dance of life and death that defines our existence. They chase financial success and academic milestones, and some even bring another life into the world without pondering the weight of bestowing existence — potentially subjecting them to grapple with the profound question of their own purpose. I remember asking my mother this very question as a child. “Why did you decide to have me?”. For context, I was always told of the sacrifices she had to make for me to exist. I suppose I wondered if I was such a burden why even make the choice to have me in the first place. Her answer was clear. “I made a mistake”.

In my desire to not succumb to existential nihilism, this has been the only solution I have found to the problem of reconciling the existence of a God in the face of the state of the world. God made a mistake and that mistake was the creation of the universe. Perhaps it is not us who need to seek forgiveness from God, but God who is seeking forgiveness from us. This is a difficult concept to understand without starting from a fresh perspective on God, which I will attempt to give.

There are many arguments for the existence of God and many of them hinge on the idea of him being a metaphysical necessity. Sure, we could posit that the universe has always existed or exists in some sort of causal open and closed loop. But that doesn’t explain things like consciousness or why one should be able to perceive experiences such as the taste of a strawberry or the beauty of a sunset. These intricate experiences go beyond the mere mechanics of a self-existing universe. If the universe has always existed in a causally cyclical manner, it might explain the how, but it falls short in explaining the why. The emergence of consciousness, with its vast complexities and nuances, isn’t merely a product of matter interacting over time. The subjective experience — the ‘qualia’ of feeling warmth, tasting sweetness, or understanding abstract concepts like love and justice — points to something deeper.

Moreover, the philosophical inquiry into the reason or purpose behind these experiences isn’t sufficiently answered by a universe that simply exists because it has always been there. An eternally existing universe doesn’t inherently provide a rationale for why we should possess the ability to ask existential questions, ponder our own existence, or seek meaning and purpose.

If we accept the premise that the universe has always existed, it still leaves a void when we try to account for the emergence of purpose, morality, beauty, and conscious experience. This void, for many, beckons the possibility of a higher intelligence or force, not just as a creator, but as a sustainer and shaper of experiences and consciousness — a framework for God that is less about the start of the universe and more about its depth and purpose.

When 2B says that she often thinks about the God who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle and whether or not she will one day have the opportunity to kill him, it is clear that she is angry with her God. And, I think it is more than a safe bet to say that throughout my essay I do harbor immense anger at God and his decision to create the universe. And I share in 2B’s desire for some form of retribution against him. However, such action would make me no better than the God who sits idly by and watches as his creation utterly destroys itself and the planet that it resides on.

So while I may not be able to kill God, I can challenge the traditional concept and, in doing so, exercise my free will in how I perceive a situation I had no hand in crafting. Ultimately resulting in an ability to empathize with the reason for this cryptical puzzle and replace my despair and rage with understanding and forgiveness. This exploration provides me with a sense of purpose, and I hope it may offer solace or understanding to others who grapple with these profound questions.

To do so we must start with a paradigm shift. Instead of working to become more like “God”, or “Christ”, we must dare to make God more like us. One question that often gets sidestepped by religious scholars and philosophers alike is the question of what created God. The answer fundamentally boils down to God has always existed and is a metaphysical necessity. Which can also mean that God had no choice in his existence. Just like us.

I’m uncertain whether God has the capability to contemplate His own existence. Even if He could, in essence, He would be questioning Himself. When humans grapple with the profound question, “Why is there something rather than nothing?”, they often direct this inquiry towards a power they perceive to be greater than themselves. To whom, then, would God, the ultimate power, pose this question? One could imagine an infinite hierarchy of gods, each more potent than the last, which sets up an eternal chain of questioning. However, such a solution seems no more satisfying than the circular response of “because God”, although it technically provides an answer.

Drawing a parallel from our natural world, this situation could be likened to a fish’s relationship with water. A fish, immersed in its aquatic environment, may never fully comprehend or question the very substance it lives within. In a similar vein, God, who exists within and as the entirety of existence itself, might not have the faculty to introspectively question or conceptualize His own nature or existence. Even if He possesses knowledge about everything external to Him, there might be an intrinsic limitation preventing Him from introspecting about His own origination or nature. Thus, even though God might know all, He may be unaware of certain experiential realities, such as the profound existential questions that arise from being a created being. And the suffering we visit upon ourselves and others as a result of it. How can you understand the competition for resources to ensure your survival when you don’t need anything to live? We, as conscious entities, grapple with our creation and existence, an experience that God might not share and would not become aware of until the act of creation.

And why would God create the universe and us within it? Consider the musician, who, lost in the act of creating music, may not initially identify as a ‘musician’ until an observer bestows that label upon them. The act of making music for them arises from a genuine, intrinsic desire to express something deep within. It’s only when another witnesses and names this act that the identity of ‘musician’ takes form. Similarly, God’s act of creation could be a manifestation of His innate nature, one that He may not be actively aware of or label. Just as the musician doesn’t create with the title in mind but from a pure urge to manifest music, God’s act of creation might not be from a conscious identity as a ‘creator’ but from an inherent compulsion to bring forth existence. In essence, our perceptions and labels might define God as the ‘creator,’ but from His perspective, He is simply existing and acting in alignment with His nature, a nature he may not be fully aware of until it is actualized through his creative act.

And even though his creative act has resulted in some of the most profound experiences of pain and suffering imaginable, from this framework can we, I, truly hold him responsible for them? The answer seems to be yes. Even though he may not have known what would happen when he did it. He is ultimately responsible for enacting the choice to do so. Unless he had no other choice and in this case, it isn’t so much a “choice” as it is a natural consequence of his nature. Like how water, when cooled, naturally freezes, God might have brought forth creation not out of a deliberate decision, but as an inevitable expression of his intrinsic character. If this is the case, blaming God for the outcomes of the universe becomes akin to blaming the sun for its heat or the moon for its gravitational pull on the tides. They simply act in accordance with their nature, devoid of conscious intent or malice because, again, his nature isn’t something he has the capacity to be aware of because he lacks the inherent capability to introspect and question it. It’s akin to expecting the color blue to ponder why it’s blue, or for gravity to question why it pulls objects together.

For God, his very nature might be so intrinsic and fundamental that it’s beyond the realm of questioning or self-awareness. It’s not about ignorance or unawareness in the way humans understand it; rather, it’s about being so deeply embedded in one’s essence that the very act of questioning or differentiating oneself from it becomes moot. If we take this viewpoint, then our human-centric ideas of intent, responsibility, and consciousness might not even be applicable to such a being, making our attempts to judge or understand God through our limited frameworks both challenging, humbling, and frustrating.

With this in mind, I don’t believe God stayed ignorant of this fact for very long. I believe at the moment of the creation of conscious beings, or if you are of the evolutionary perspective, the creation of a process that led to conscious beings he must have become aware of his mistake. And it was one that was not within his power to resolve. Because God cannot go against his nature any more than gravity can go against its own pull. The very fabric of existence, the laws of physics, and the fundamental truths we hold are manifestations of God’s nature. And if it is in his nature to create, then destruction becomes impossible.

If we accept this notion, then the moment conscious beings came into existence and started questioning their origin, purpose, and the suffering they encountered, God might have “realized” the implications of His nature. Not in the sense of human realization or regret, but in the cosmic understanding that His nature led to beings capable of such introspection and emotion.

But here’s the paradox: If God’s nature is unchanging and beyond questioning, then the very realization of a “mistake” might be an anthropomorphic projection. We, as humans, grapple with the idea of a perfect, all-knowing deity making mistakes, because our understanding of mistakes is rooted in our limited, human experiences.

Yet, if we dare to empathize with this perspective of God, the weight of such a realization on an eternal being becomes a profound point of contemplation. An omnipotent being faced with the outcome of its unchangeable nature, leading to a creation that can suffer and question, yet powerless in the face of its own nature to alter that course. This paints a picture not of a detached or indifferent deity, but of a complex force of existence that, in its own way, might be bound by the very nature it embodies.

It is in this aspect, of being bound by a nature I didn’t choose, that I have come to have empathy for a God that I was angry with. From this perspective, there is nothing to forgive because once you understand you see that there was never any intentional malevolence to begin with. Just as we, as conscious beings, are often slaves to our own instincts, emotions, and limitations, God too might be “enslaved” by His inherent nature.

The resentment and anger we might feel towards the universe’s perceived injustices is often rooted in the assumption of an omnipotent deity deliberately orchestrating every event with full awareness and intent. However, if we consider the idea of God as a force with its own inherent compulsions and limitations, our perspective shifts. The tragedies and sufferings of life may not be acts of deliberate cruelty, but rather the natural byproducts of a universe set into motion by an entity with its own constraints.

Understanding this doesn’t diminish the pain or suffering that exists in the world, nor does it absolve us of our responsibilities to alleviate that suffering. But it does offer a new lens through which we can view our existence. Instead of seeing ourselves as victims of a capricious creator, we might see ourselves as participants in a vast cosmic play, where even the playwright is bound by the rules of the narrative.

In recognizing our shared limitations with the very force we once blamed, we open ourselves to a deeper sense of compassion — not just for ourselves and our fellow beings, but for the entirety of existence. It reminds us that understanding is the precursor to forgiveness and that in the grand tapestry of existence, every thread, no matter how seemingly insignificant or flawed, has its place and purpose.

Because if creation is an expression of God’s innate nature, what does that make us? So, I am not saying we’re all God. What I am saying though is that we, if the previous assumptions and theorems I put together are true, are an expression of their nature. A nature they could not know until they expressed it. The question then becomes not why we exist, but what will we do with the existence that we have.

In ‘NieR: Automata’, characters like 2B and 9S grapple with the existential questions of their own purpose and existence, much as we do. In a world where they were created by humanity, yet outlive their creators, they seek meaning in a seemingly indifferent world. Their journeys of self-discovery, introspection, and ultimate acceptance mirror our own struggles to understand our place in the universe. Just as 2B and 9S learn that it’s not about why they were created, but what they choose to do with their existence, we too can take solace in our ability to shape our destiny.

Similarly, the androids in NieR: Automata don’t hate their human creators for bringing them into a world filled with conflict and despair. Instead, they seek to honor their legacy by finding meaning and purpose in their actions. In a way, their journey parallels our own with respect to God. If we can come to terms with our existence as an expression of a nature beyond our comprehension, we can shift our focus from questioning our creation to actively forging a purposeful path forward, just as the characters in NieR: Automata do.